He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings. “With regard to the conditions I mentioned,” Sir John continued, gaining a little confidence from Anna’s silence, “I think you will admit that they are not wholly unreasonable. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. Giles's church, the bell of which continued tolling all the time, passed the pound, and entered Oxford Road, or, as it was then not unfrequently termed, Tyburn Road.
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